Partly cloudy skies. Low around 55F. Winds light and variable..

Partly cloudy skies. Low around 55F. Winds light and variable.

I really couldn’t believe my ears.

I was trolling the aisles of my favorite odd lot store a couple of weeks ago when suddenly I heard a voice coming through a speaker phone plainly audible throughout the busy food section. “No, you’re not actually a diabetic yet, but you are borderline, so you’ll have to watch your A1C.” (A simple blood test used to measure blood sugar levels and critical for diabetics to monitor.) I was curious as to where the sound was coming from, but I did not have to wonder for long. Half an aisle away I saw the offender hanging over her wagon asking questions loudly (no, she wasn’t wearing any sort of hearing device. I deliberately walked by her so I could surreptitiously check her ears). She wasn’t hearing impaired, just plain loud; and because she had the caller, who obviously was from a doctor’s office, on speaker, all of us in the food section of the store were now privy to the shopper’s blood pressure numbers, cholesterol assessment with full breakdown of LDL, HDL and triglyceride levels, and every other result from what must have been a recent physical with accompanying blood work. I’m not crazy about hearing my own numbers, so why in hell would I want to be subjected to hers?

HIPAA. Remember HIPAA? It’s been around some 26 years and was created for the express and singular purpose of consumer protection and privacy. The Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act of 1996 is a federal law that required the creation of national standards to protect sensitive patient information from disclosure. When we initially went to doctors’ offices after it was first signed into law we had to sign a HIPAA form; most doctors still feel obligated to present it with the mound of paperwork you get as a new patient, but its guidelines are not being practiced as they should be. On more than one occasion I have been in a medical waiting room and someone from behind the glass bellows in her best Ethel Merman intonation, “Mrs. Grant, how long have you had those raised bumps on your stomach?” Forgive me for not being compassionate, but I don’t want to hear about raised bumps or anything else the dowager Grant might have on any of her body parts. I also find that if in this case the patient is indeed hearing impaired, the office somehow thinks they are being kind by asking those questions in a decibel level just under dog whistle. Why not take the patient in a separate area for that? It’s only fair to them and to everyone else who’s in the waiting area.

But the folks in the waiting rooms are guilty as well, smashing the HIPAA rules with every cell phone call they make or answer. Waiting rooms are for patients to ... well, wait, and to decompress from any anxiety they may have about their imminent appointment; and if the medical office allows it with the lessening of COVID rules, to perhaps read an out-of-date magazine wherein there might be an article on the upcoming presidential election pitting George Bush against Al Gore. Medical offices are ridiculously guilty of having very old reading material in their waiting rooms. I love the ones in the cardiologists’ offices. People? No way. Sports Illustrated? Uh-uh. But they are completely up to date with the current issues of “Your Plaque and You” and “The Fibs about AFIB.”

Privacy went out the window with the elimination of phone booths, with the doing away of curtained voting booths, and with the internet itself because every single thing we put online is public knowledge for the whole wide world to savor. I’m not sure why anyone thinks they can commit a crime today and get away with it. Don’t you watch “Forensic Files,” “Dateline,” or “48 Hours”? With doorbell cams, face-recognition devices, and the ability to see your front door while you’re having lunch in Des Moines (“Oh, look, honey. UPS just delivered, and there’s that nosy Mrs. Michaels checking out the package to see who it’s from.”).

When I was in school so many years ago, the front door of the school didn’t have a lock, but our lockers did, and we were always chided by our teachers to, “Mind your own business, keep it to yourself.”

I have a question. How are we gonna do that now?

Rona Mann has been a freelance writer for The Sun for 21 years, including her “In Their Shoes” features. She can be reached at six07co@att.net or 401-539-7762.

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